


Midnight

by reraimu



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reraimu/pseuds/reraimu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You still don't know how he manages to sneak into your room every night without waking anyone up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

He usually comes around midnight, or the equivalent of midnight, since you really can't tell between day and night here on the Veil. You hear footsteps echoing across your room. You still don't know how he manages to sneak into your room every night without waking anyone, but somehow he does it without fault. He never misses a night if he can help it.

You can feel the cold air from the AC fanning down on your face, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. Your arms are placed firmly on either side of you, blunt fingernails gouging into the mattress as your tummy starts to clench in anticipation. It's at times like these that you really start to question yourself. Is this feeling wrong, or should you welcome it? You don't even know anymore, and sometimes you feel ashamed.

Some nights, you feel that it's immoral. Yet on others, you always seem to crave for more. Sometimes you even wait for him with bated breath like all those star-crossed lovers in one of Karkat's romcoms. Except this isn't exactly a romcom, and you're not really sure if you're in love; however, you can't stop your hormones from raging out of control. That's like telling someone to stop breathing.

Your room is dark and dank, and surprise, surprise, gray! You haven't had the time to alchemize any movie posters to hang up on your walls, but you tell yourself you'll get to it later. You really can't bear to see your walls naked.

The footsteps get closer still. They're slack and light and they don't make any noise—he's so careful, which sometimes confounds you because it's very uncharacteristic of him to be so wary of his actions. In no time, he's standing right before your bed, his lean frame tall and spindly against the dark as he practically looms over you. He lets a saw-toothed smile spread across his face, white facial paint cracking and chipping around his lips.

"Evenin' motherfucker," he whispers, his voice lax and throaty. You shiver underneath your coverlet. You don't have enough time to whisper a greeting to him before he suddenly leans down and places both hands on either side of your head. Black, unruly strands of hair fall across his forehead, the rest of his hair framing his face like a lion's mane. Even though it's dark, you can make out the yellow of his eyes and horns.

"H-hi, Gamzee!" you murmur, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his wrists, whether to stop him or encourage him, you really don't know. You stare up at him with a small quirk to your lips, suddenly feeling very naked without your glasses on. You really wish you had them on, only so you could see his face better.

"How are you this fine fuckin' night?" he presses, clawed fingernails clenching and unclenching beside your head. You can feel the blankets bunching up around your ears. You hope he doesn't accidentally rip a hole through your bed sheets this time.

"It's night time all day," you whisper back, averting your eyes. He lets out a small chuckle, and then you can feel the point of his index finger slowly stroking the side of your face, clawed talons gentle and light. There was a time when you were deathly afraid of those jagged claws, but he proved time and time again just how tender he could be with them. He never once hurt you. If he ever did, well, you suppose you'd be pretty darn shocked!

He's still standing next to your bed, not on it, but towering over you. He's so close you can smell him. His scent is familiar and reassuring—he smells of hairspray. When you first encountered Gamzee's scent, you wondered if he had somehow gotten into Jade and Rose's cans of alchemized hairspray. You later found out that, no, it wasn't actually hairspray he smelled of, but of the sweet and acrid scent of sopor slime. Tonight, he doesn't smell as strong as he usually does.

"Are you, er, high?" you ask him softly, pulling your fingers away from his wrists. He follows the movement of your fingers until you let them rest on your chest. He lazily looks up at you from the veil of his crude and wiry bangs, eyelids blinking leisurely. You always find it so fascinating when Gamzee blinks. All trolls are born with a third eyelid, a sort of translucent membrane-like structure that closes horizontally over the eye rather than vertically, like a cat's! You're used to seeing this in action, but Gamzee is different. He always blinks so slowly all the time, and even though you know he only does this because all of the sopor slime he ingests, you still find it so awesome when he blinks.

"I'm all up in the in-between motherfucker," he growls softly, serrated teeth resting on his bottom lip. You guess that means he's semi-high then. You feel the bed dip and the mattress creak when Gamzee suddenly crawls onto the bed, placing his knees on either side of your waist. He's hovering over you now, gray eyes trained on you and only you. It unnerves you when he does this, but at the same time you can't help but suppress a shudder. You know that his focus is entirely on you right now.

"Hi!" you whisper up at him with a goofy smile. You giggle when he raises his hand and does a little wave, and before you have time to catch your breath, he swoops in and brushes your lips with a kiss. He pulls away marginally, studying your lips a little too intently—they're probably smudged with face paint now. He dives down for another kiss, nearly nipping your mouth with his fangs. A whine escapes your throat when he does it again and again and again, each peck to the lips a little longer than the previous one.

Before you know it, his chest is pressed flush against yours, his lips kneading against yours ever so slowly. You open your mouth in a gasp when he nibbles at your bottom lip, tugging your mouth open with his teeth. It isn't long before you feel his tongue plunge in, his appendage outlining your teeth and tickling the roof of your mouth. You shyly meet your tongue with his, because even though you should be used to this by now, the act never fails to get you completely flustered. By this point in time, it's all teeth and tongue and saliva, and when he pauses to press sloppy little kisses to the corners of your mouth, you can't help but let out a little whimper, because it makes you feel so good inside.

"Are we gonna' get our "miracles" on?" you ask breathlessly in an expert mimic of his speech quirk. He licks his lips and lets a languid grin stretch across his face. He suddenly looks so very pleased.

"You better motherfuckin' believe it," he purrs, placing his nose to the crook of your neck. "We're gonna' get all up in it, my fine fleshy friend." You watch him out of the corner of your eye, your chest heaving. Your fingers are fisting against your night shirt, absolutely restless when you feel him breathe against you. You can feel hot puffs of breath brush against the sensitive skin along your neck, Gamzee's entire body vibrating as a rumble washes over him. You love it when he purrs.

Before you can stop yourself, you thread your fingers through his black hair and rub the pads of your fingers along his scalp, arching your back a little when he begins to mouth at your neck, his fangs gently scraping against the line of your throat.

He presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck, and when he comes to your collar bone, he mouths at it, his tongue lapping at the slight dent at the center of your collar. He goes back to the crook of your neck and plants his lips there and jesus christ, you can't help yourself. You're shivering when he sucks and sucks at that one spot, the tip of his tongue occasionally flicking your skin. He's pressed so tight against you and you can feel his tongue and his breath and his skin against your neck, and please, never stop.

You subconsciously grab for his horns, rubbing the base where skin meets horn. This seems to wake up the equivalent of a dormant beast, because he's latching onto your neck even harder, sucking and biting and kissing your skin as vibration after vibration wracks throughout his body. You already know there's going to be a bruise on your neck tomorrow. You're going to have to come up with a pretty convincing excuse when morning comes around.

A moment passes and he pulls away, licking his lips. Your neck is probably slathered in purple by now, not only because of the hickey, but because of his saliva. Or it could be violet, or indigo, or whatever.

You're shaken from your musings when you feel long and nimble fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt. The pads of his digits skirt across your flat stomach, making you instinctively clench your abdominal muscles. His fingers are cool compared to your flushed and heated skin and you sigh when his fingertips trace up and down your sides. With his free hand, he slowly begins to bunch up the fabric of your night shirt, effectively hitching the shirt all the way past your nipples. The pink little nubs are already pert and hardened, and Gamzee wastes no time in leaning forward and latching onto one with his mouth.

You're writhing underneath him as he sucks at one nipple, rolling the tender bud gently between his sharp teeth. He rubs at the other nipple with two fingers, softly stroking the hardened nub. Your head is turned to the side, your eyes cast downward. You're watching Gamzee suck and rub at your nipples and it's turning you on so hard. Your cheeks are tinged red and your buck-teeth are worrying at your lip and you feel like letting loose all kinds of lewd noises. Just when the dam is about to break and you open your mouth in a gasp, Gamzee scoots up and silences you with a passionate kiss, effectively swallowing your cries of pleasure. He leans away from you, a quirk to his lips.

"You're a motherfuckin' cutie, you know?" he says to you, his index finger tracing a circle around your exposed belly button.

"I'm not cute, I'm handsome!" you say with a pout, still trying to catch your breath. At least, that's what Vriska keeps on telling you. You sure hope she hasn't been lying to you all this time!

Gamzee snorts through his nose. "Okay, bein' all handsome and shit. Messes with my think pan." To prove his point, he taps his index finger to the side of his temple. He then kind of zones out for a while, his mouth drawing shut as he goes silent. His eyes are blinking so slowly that you can see the translucent membrane gliding over his sclera, making the yellow turn almost opaque.

"Gamzee?" you call out to him. You're starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Gamzee is silent and still and staring at nothing in particular, while your shirt is hiked all the way up your chest. Yes, definitely uncomfortable. You pap him gently on the shoulder.

"Wha…" he drones on, but then he flinches and seems to snap out of whatever stupor he had been in. He looks down at you with an apologetic smile and shrugs. "Sorry little man. I was all up in doing some thinking and shit."

"About what?" you ask. This has never really happened before. The way he suddenly clammed up kind of worries you. He looks at you when he hears your voice, gray eyes anchored on your face. You gulp.

"About you…" he says through a smile, leaning down. He places his lips to the center of your chest, leaving a trail of chaste kisses down your stomach. He looks up at you when he reaches your belly button, yellow eyes visible through his bangs. "…and me."

Your breath hitches. You don't know why, but there's something about his tone of voice that gives you the impression that he's being completely serious. Gamzee is never this serious.

"What about us?" you query, biting at your lip when he noses at the lower part of your belly. His warm and rough hands trail down your abdomen until they come to a rest at the waist of your pajama shorts. He hooks his fingers underneath the waistline of both pants and boxers, ever mindful of his claws, and rubs at the warm skin there. You squeeze your eyes shut.

He never answers your question because now he's looking at you expectantly, tapping his fingers along the waist of your pajama pants like he's seeking your permission. You find the notion to be so very, very sweet. For the moment, you forget about your question and you forget about Gamzee's strange behavior tonight. You give him a nod. He takes the initiative.

There's a certain method that Gamzee uses when he peels your clothes off: he goes by layers. He first starts with your pants. He slowly rolls them down your hips and past your thighs, until he hikes your legs up and pulls them completely off. He throws them to the floor. You're still wondering why he hasn't peeled your shirt off yet.

You're left shivering in your heart patterned boxers (how ironic). You never fail to shut your thighs together out of instinct. You did it the first time, and you're doing it now. Gamzee's hands are suddenly on your knees and he's looking at you with a lazy smile, his hands gently prying your thighs apart. You always get so flustered at this part. You can feel your cock straining against your boxer shorts, which are a little on the tight side to begin with, and all the blood in your head is rushing down south because Gamzee's looking at you with that glazed over look he always gets when he's really horny.

"It's all beautiful brother," he says, massaging your left knee. "You're beautiful." You're now melting inside.

Gamzee starts working on your boxers. Your heart is fluttering in your chest like a wild bird. He dips his fingers underneath the waist line of your boxers, claws playing with the elastic band, and starts rolling the fabric downward. He sluggishly slides them down your thighs and over your knees, until they're lying bunched up around your ankles. Your cock is engorged and flushed a pretty pink color, lying parallel to your belly, beads of precum speckling the flushed tip. Your thighs are spread so wide that you turn your head to the side and pretend to stare at the wall. You can literally feel Gamzee's predatory gaze on your person.

The mattress creaks underneath you and you look back down again. Gamzee is hovering over you know, placing his lips right beneath your belly button. You suck in a breath. He nuzzles his way downward, pausing to sniff at the patch of pubic hair feathering your cock. He growls a little in his throat, soft and low and you blush in embarrassment.

You're waiting for him to get on with it, because 1) you're embarrassed, and 2) you really want him to put his mouth to work. When he doesn't comply with your unsounded wishes, your start to squirm. He completely misses the target and ends up trailing his lips down the inside of your thighs, occasionally nipping at the soft flesh with his teeth. You're arching your back off the bed when he begins sucking at the skin on your thigh, the pads of his fingers fluttering over your twitching stomach.

"Nngh," you murmur, biting at your lip as his lips trail upward again, but this time, he's getting closer and closer to the place you really want him to go. He breathes over your twitching cock, looking up at you through his bangs.

"How does this feel Johnboy?" he breathes against you, and it takes all the will power you can muster to keep your mouth shut. Before you have time to collect yourself, he lolls his tongue out and swipes a lick to the tip of your penis. The sensation makes you jolt, your eyes widening as your legs close on instinct. Once again, Gamzee's hands are there to pry your thighs apart and he wraps his lips over the head of your shaft.

Your back lifts of the bed, your eyes squeezing shut when you feel his tongue curl around the head, his lips pursed around the shape of your cock. You wrench your eyes open and you look down between your legs, seeing nothing but hair, horns, and more hair. It's only when he totally engulfs you and starts bobbing his head when you completely loose it.

Pretty soon, your fingers are streaking through his hair, blunt fingernails stroking the curve of his horns and scratching at his tough scalp. When you do this, a deep rumble emits from his throat, sending a shock wave all the way down your throbbing penis. He is literally vibrating between your thighs, and no matter how many times you've felt it, it steel feels absolutely amazing. His lips are too warm and velvety, and the inside of his mouth is wet and slick and you can't help yourself when your hips start thrusting to the beat of his sucking. Not once does he nick you with his fangs.

You're simmering in a bubbling cauldron of pleasure and passion. Your thighs are shaking, your belly is tightening, and you're emitting mewls and whimpers and moans of desire. His tongue begins to rub at the underside of your cock, softly stroking the bulging vein that runs along the engorged flesh.

Your legs spread wider and your fingers leave his hair. The pressure in your nether regions is building up so rapidly that you don't quite know what to do with yourself. Your hands are fisting in the bed sheets and your head is thrashing from side to side, and once or twice your bite your tongue when Gamzee tightens his mouth around you. Really, it's too much at once!

"Gamzee!" you cry out, shoving at his head. Your loins are burning and you're about to burst any minute now. When Gamzee doesn't pull away, you continue to push frantically at his head. You've never jizzed in his mouth before and you're not going to start now.

Gamzee keeps on sucking harder and harder, his fingers stroking your naked thighs. You can't take it any longer and pretty soon you find yourself arching nearly completely off the bed, your thighs trembling as you cum into his mouth. You curl your toes into the blankets as you ride out your orgasm. He never once stops what he's doing; milking you for all that you're worth. When you're completely sated, only then does he pull away from you, a trail of saliva stringing away from his mouth. Your penis is flaccid and sensitive and coated in troll spit, and you don't even close your thighs this time because you feel so exhausted all of a sudden. Mind-blowing orgasms tend to do that to you sometimes.

Your chest is heaving, fingers fisting open and close beside your head. You manage the strength to slightly pick yourself up and look downwards. You blush when you catch Gamzee licking white beads of cum off his lips. When he sees you staring at him, his mouth stretches out into a full-scale toothy grin, eyes heavily lidded.

"'sup," he purrs, blinking his eyes owlishly. You stare at him, baffled.

"Doesn't that taste gross?" you ask him softly. He seems to consider your question for a bit, weighing it around in his head, before he shrugs his shoulders.

"It was okay," he says slowly, looking at you. He grins. "Not as fuckin' delicious as one of my motherfuckin' pies but-."

You smack him with your pillow.


End file.
